The Many Parents of Harry Potter
by Brewa
Summary: When Widowmaker is sent to assassinate Vernon Dursley, she and Amélie discover an abused Harry. Liberating Harry and dragging along Gabriel, she inducts them into the reforming Overwatch. Instead of a scrawny, abused child, Hogwarts gets a confident and well trained savior. Rated T for mention of abuse. UP FOR ADOPTION!
1. Humanity

**Hello everyone! This will be a** _ **very**_ **long author's note to explain what happened the months between activities. Summer got to me, and I was lazy. For a while. Then, stuff happened and I got into High School! Yay me! The last two weeks were Marching Band Camp for my high school and we recently played at our first football game (technically second but the first was during a pep rally). I won't bore you with drill or anything, but we played The Phoenix by Fall Out Boy during halftime. We're working on Uprising by Muse for later games, and we're getting my favorite song out of the three, Viva La Vida by Coldplay next week! This is going to be Overwatch and Harry Potter, but you know that because you searched for this. I got the idea for this story for a HP and TF2 crossover, not by me. Similar beginning, but different characters. Without further ado, our feature presentation! I'm not Blizzard or J.K. Rowling, so I own nothing.**

 _Flying the friendly skies!- Fareeha Amari, Overwatch, 20?_

Harry didn't know exactly _why_ his relatives hated him, but they did. He was stuffed under the stairs, sometimes days at a time, and he never knew why. He never knew why October was when he was supposed to ask his teachers for the homework that month, because he never went on those month long trips. He never knew why his hair never grew, nor why the garden bloomed faster and longer than any other house on Privet Drive. He only knew that these things happened, and not why they happened.

Widowmaker knew nothing about why she was contracted to eliminate this Dursley fellow, only that the company he worked for, Grunnings, signed a contract to one of Talon's enemies, so as a message, eliminate their director. When she looked at the road they lived on, however, it sent a shiver down her spine. What little shard of Amélie was left inside her, thought that the same house design was used for several streets, unnerved her.

Shaking the girl out of her head, she activated the Infra-Sight and looked in the house, Number 4 Privet Drive. At first, what she saw disgusted her. She never knew whales could walk, or breed with horses to make a hippopotamus, but that is what she saw. A man-whale, a horse woman and a hippo child, around seven or so, sat at a table waiting for breakfast. But who was making the breakfast?

Shifting her vision, a rare moment occurred. Amélie and Widowmaker agreed on something. And that something was a small child, no older than six, fixing breakfast for the whole family, was mistreated. They both watched in horror as the child took the breakfast to the table, and gave it all to the people, no, creatures at the table. And the next action shook both of their foundations, that whale man hit the child.

Then they realized that this assassination could wait, because something took first priority. That child could not survive in that environment any longer. The whale man stuffed the child under a stair cupboard, slobbered the horse, and went to work. The horse went to take the hippo to school, and left the child curled under that staircase. They moved as one, and went to the back door.

The door was used daily, as it seems, because it was left open. Picking the screen door lock in moments gained the assassin entrance to the house. It was sparkling clean. The chairs still warm from the occupant's presence. Picking the stair cupboard lock, the child looked worse from up close. Wearing hand-me-downs from the hippo, the mop of hair was unwashed and bruises and scars blemished the child's skin.

"What is your name, child?" Asked Widowmaker in her sweetest voice. The child hesitated for a long moment and answered. "Uncle Vernon calls me Freak." The voice was as soft as silk and as innocent as a newborn.

"Well, I am not your Uncle. What do they call you in school?" She hated the family with a passion recently unheard of from the assassin. "They call me Harry there. Harry Potter." In that moment something happened; Widowmaker switched sides. "Excusez-moi, Harry, I have to make a call."

She wandered upstairs and into the first room she saw. It was filled with toys, new, old, broken, and unpackaged. Their last breaths would be filled with venom. The next room was a bathroom. Good enough, she supposes. She attempts something she would regret had she not seen the child, call the recently reforming Overwatch.

After a few rings, a gruff voice answers. "Who is this and who hacked the channel?" Ah, the gorilla. "Would you not wish to hear from an old friend, mon ami?" She taunts. She hears a gasp, but continues. "I would like to put in an application for Overwatch. I would also like to speak with Angela Ziegler."

A full minute passes by with no sound at all. The next, the gorilla responds. "Why should I accept? You work with Talon! You could kill us all without missing a shot!" She ponders for a moment, "And what do you want with Dr. Ziegler? To turn her into a Talon Operative?!"

After a moment of contemplation, she responds. "I was once one of you. I baked for all of you. I married Gérard. Talon thought they killed her. I am accepting that I was her. I want to be her again. I will start with rescuing a life. Talon threw me to kill the director of Grunnings. I staked out their home and noticed they abused a child. No older than six, and making the family breakfast. Scars and bruises blemish his skin. They call him Freak. I wish to stop this abuse for everyone. Besides, stopping abuse raises publicity. This child is why I wish to contact Dr. Ziegler."

Ten pregnant minutes pass before a feminine voice speaks. "Amélie, is it really you?" The voice brings memories unfamiliar. Blonde hair, blue eyes, glowing wings, and the name of mercy. "Angela, it is good to speak with you once more, mon cher."

 **I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this story! Hopefully with school up and running again, I can get back into the swing of doing work. My Honors Language 9 teacher has already congratulated me on my writing, so hopefully you get better stories to read. Until next time! Uhdolwb lv dq Looxvlrq, wkh Xqlyhuvh lv d krorjudp, exb jrog, ebh!**


	2. Redemption

**Hello once more! First and foremost, I'd like to address some things that recently came up. For the sake of rights, they will remain anonymous. They asked me to stop writing for a while and find what inspires me. If they were here at all, they would know that I took several months off trying to do this. Exact. Thing. I would kindly appreciate it if you could just leave this story if it doesn't interest you. Don't keep eating chicken if you want pizza. A guest also commented (twice) that Widowmaker and who she was before are the same person…Talon brainwashed her. Think of it as repressing who she was and putting their assassin in her place, and accepting they share the body. Feature presentation in 3…2…1!**

 _I'm back in black. –Gabriel Reyes_

"I will try to reach a more, covert area to pick us up. I will inform you of our location, but we are in Surrey, Little Whinging." What Widowmaker would not tell them was that after Harry was in embrace of Mercy, the mission would allocate a few more casualties. This house will burn with the passion that she feels for its inhabitants.

When she walked downstairs, Harry was raiding a cupboard of any food. Of course, she was upstairs for over ten minutes and when watching the house, she hadn't seen him eat anything. Even MREs would be better than the things that he was gathering, but she let him eat. But she heard a car pulling into the drive. She heard them say they wished the 'freak' was gone. _Well, let them have cake,_ thought the Widowmaker, happy she could use the namesake well. "Harry, I want you to hide in the cupboard for a bit longer. I promise I will take you away from here." He scrambled away from the crackers and dove in, shutting the door. She turned off the lights, fired her grapple hook, and waited in the shadows, Venom Mine primed.

The door opened, and if it wasn't in front of her, she would have thought his screams indicated his house was on fire. It will, imbecile. It will. The horse shoved the whale out of the way and screamed at the crumbs on the ground. A perfectionist, perfect.

Vernon Dursley prided himself over his most recent sale. Nine million should hold them over for a while. Get the freak a private tutor to keep him out of sight. Yes, thought the whale, my life can only go up from here. He even got his darling son out of school to celebrate with him. He hadn't told his family yet, so the surprise would be even better.

When he went home with his family, he thought to himself, soon this will be the house of a millionaire. He even spoke to himself, "If that freak would be gone, that would make this day even better." But when he got inside, he screamed. The freak had done his freakishness and got himself out. There were cracker crumbs everywhere. No food for two weeks, he thought, and the freakishness will be gone.

His wife, Petunia, rushed forward, her beautiful kitchen in shambles. How dare the freak, she thought, ruining the kitchen he spent hours on. Had she been in her right mind, she might have noticed a black shadow among the stairwell roof. But, who would do the cooking? The cleaning? Her beautiful house in shambles!

Widowmaker was disgusted, these people looked worse up close with normal vision. She heard their screams, and smiled. Three retched lives would depart the world today. "I WILL KILL THAT FREAK! HE HAS BEEN FREAKISH ENOUGH WITH US WATCHING! NOW HE DOES FREAKISHNESS UNDER OUR OWN NOSES!" The whale moved to open the door, but she had had enough. _"_ _être baleine calme_ _"_

They were confused until she dropped down with the grace of a cat, and they got scared even still. "Er, get out of here! We'll call the police." Oh, you fat man, Talon controlled every media outlet in existence, and most of law enforcement. "Or what, freak?" The look upon their faces confirmed a philosophy; every practitioner hates the way their medicine tastes.

"Er, I'm the director of a successful company! You'll go to prison!" The man trembled in his proportionally small shoes. The hippo-boy even wet his pants. "Ah, that is why I was sent to kill you. You signed the wrong thing at the wrong time. And you will pay." She spoke, lacking all emotion, and fired the Venom Mine into the crowd.

The canister exploded, releasing the chemical gas it contained, and into the lungs of the victims. As they involuntarily inhaled, the gas entered the bloodstream, and spread its toxin to every inch of their bodies. A coughing fit ensued, and they were soon on the ground rolling in pain. A mere sample of this delectable cake, thought the assassin. "What is wrong freaks? Cat got your tongues?" A mere pinch of amusement in her voice.

"Harry, chéri, gather your things. We are leaving this horrible place." He crawled out from his cupboard with a blanket and a teddy bear. She went to the liqueur cabinet, and got out the oldest bottle of brandy she could find. Ripping a tear of cloth from the horse's dress, she stuffed it in the bottle, lit it with the man's pipe lighter, and threw it up the stairs, where it would eventually spread and consume the abnormalities of human life. With a passing glance, she noticed the flames went toward the family in a snake-like motion, almost like magic.

Albus Dumbledore considered himself of the Light side of things. He used no Dark curses, nor killed anyone he may fight with in the previous and upcoming war. With as many titles as he held, he pondered a moment on what he would do once Tom was killed and Harry died a martyr. He thought, perhaps, that if his Patronus was not the likeness of his lovely Fawkes, it might have been a swarm of bumblebees.

He decided that once he retired, that he would farm bees. With the Elder Wand on his side, controlling the bees would be no problem. Perhaps he should take a Muggle class on genetics, to learn how to breed honeybees. With a bit of magic, he would get a steady income off of his honey. Dumble's Bumbles Honey. Yes, a nice ring to it.

His thoughts turned to Harry himself, and he had to remind himself what the boy went through was for the Greater Good. He would form him into a martyr, and retire. But he would not control his life at his school, however. He remembered his own emotions when he went to school here, and he would not reign in those feelings. A few nudges in the right direction, and he would be off to war.

He was shaken from these thoughts of martyrdom as the sensors placed at the Dursley's house began to shudder, with a purple substance of gaseous nature swirled around them. He watched on in horror as they burst into flames and smoldered to nothing but a pile of slag. This meant only one thing; the Dursleys were dead, burned to death. His plans had been hit on its Achilles Heel.

As Widowmaker left the eerie drive, minus one house, she could not help but feel an immense amount of dread lying over her like a lead apron. She shook it off, and continued forward with Harry with her. They stealthily left the town and went to the woods nearby. But a smoking figure followed them, inching along the drain pipe, and watching the woman. "Amélie to Winston. I have recovered the payload and am awaiting transport."

A voice crackles to life in a moment. _*sigh* "You really need to get a better take on military commands. We are in the area. ETA twenty minutes. Over and out."_ The gorill-Winston says. As she moves to sit with Harry, the dread returns, with a vengeance. Smoke pours from the drain pipe and solidifies into the Reaper.

The shadows and darkness clung to him like moss on a statue. What was left of a man betrayed stood stoic, like a rocky island during a sea storm. A skull mask blocks any and all body language from being translated. When he speaks, his Hispanic heritage shows no presence. "I see that they left a little fragment of the girl left in you. I will gladly purge it."

"Gabri-" "THAT IS NOT MY NAME! It is Reaper, and I will put it to use." The man snaps, violently attacking her verbally. "Reaper then, have you no compassion? Have you no soul, because you seem to eat a lot of them! You'd think there was an abundance!" She screams, her voice filled with malice.

"Look at this child, and see what kindles in that stone heart of yours!" Perhaps it was the rage, or the curiosity, but he glanced, expecting nothing. But something did; something all too familiar. This child was abused, like Gabe. With a wild mop of black hair, just like Gabe. Sympathy danced in his heart, attacking his walls with a ferocity he didn't know it could have.

"What is your intent with this child, Amélie?" He asked. "Mercy. Overwatch will help him recover. Perhaps all three of us." Reaper was fighting a losing battle in his mind against Gabe. The hatred for the organization vanished, and Reaper submitted. "I'm in."

"Recruit to pilot, I have received news of another who wishes to join. What is your answer?" She asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

 **And done! Several days of brainstorming and writing done! The next prequel awaits!**

 _The Rock of Gibraltar. An eco watchpoint the man knows well, every flank route, every choke point, and most of its new inhabitants. "It's good to be home." He rasped._


End file.
